The Colorado night was clear, if a little humid, for the particular time, but at least the stars were sharp against the summer night as the velvet sky darkened even more above Suplizio Field. The roaring of field noise faded in the distance as the show still took place, replaced out here by the low, grating squeak of dolly wheels rolling across concrete.

Bella Madison stood just outside the loading bay doors, her arms crossed over her chest, hair pulled back with the strands that fell from the loose bun that she had tied in. She watched as the SCW ringside crew wheeled away what remained of Mercedes Vargas’ effigy, a melted mannequin placed in a now charred director style chair, scorched beyond recognition, bits of singed synthetic hair clinging to its blackened skull. A stuffed plush leech dangled from one twisted plastic shoulder, bobbing with every jostle of the dolly.

It smelled faintly of burnt plastic and cheap perfume. Bella inhaled deeply anyway, satisfied.

She didn’t look away until the dolly hit a seam in the pavement and jostled the effigy sideways, one limp arm flopping toward the ground like it was trying to wave goodbye.

For a moment, she let herself enjoy the satisfaction, the primal, cleansing thrill of it. Watching that stand-in for Mercedes Vargas, and for everything she represented, reduced to ashes had been almost therapeutic.

Almost.

She drew in a long breath and released it slowly, tasting the acrid tang of burnt polyester on the back of her tongue. She didn’t even turn when footsteps approached behind her, the tread familiar as her own heartbeat.

“[/color]Well...” Malachi’s voice was warm, low, threaded with an amused edge, "Are we feeling better about things now?”

Bella tilted her head as she kept her eyes on the effigy, her lips twitching into a half-smirk, "Meh? I mean, it was fun,” She finally glanced over at him, her sky blue eyes glinting under the parking lot lights. A breeze lifted a few stray strands of her hair, carrying away the last curls of smoke, "But no,” she added, "I’m not satisfied, not yet at least.”

Malachi leaned one shoulder against a concrete pillar, crossing his arms as he studied her. His dark hair pulled back in a tight ponytail, the hair that had gotten crazy long even for him, considering he used to keep it short and tight for years, even when they got married, "Not even after roasting Vargas and her... parasite? By the way, we all got a good chuckle out of that,” he asked, jerking his bearded chin toward the now-distant mannequin, which was being unceremoniously loaded into a dumpster.

Bella exhaled, a dry little laugh escaping her, "Setting that plastic bitch on fire felt amazing. But I won’t be satisfied until Mercedes is gone back to her hole and I’m holding my Internet Championship again.”

Malachi’s smirk widened, proud and a little wicked, "Atta girl.”

Bella stepped closer, her voice low as she poked a finger lightly into the center of his chest, "I’m done biting my tongue, Mal. She keeps acting like she’s some fucking queen bee around here? I’m going to remind her exactly who built MY kingdom brick by brick while she was busy reciting the same tired lines for ten damn years while contributing nothing of substance but hot fucking air.”

His grin softened into something fonder as he tilted his head, amusement crinkling the corners of his eyes, "Remind her all you want, mo chroí. Just save a little of that fire for Summer Xxxtreme.”

A dangerous spark lit up Bella’s eyes, "Oh, I have only just begun, and by the time I am somewhat close to being finished, I plan on burning the whole fucking place down.”

Malachi chuckled under his breath, sliding an arm around her shoulders and steering her gently back toward the building, "Jesus, your da would be so proud.”

That caused Bella’s eyes to shine even brighter, “He already messaged me with some critiquing but he loved it.”

Malachi just laughed and held her a little closer, “Of course he did. Come on, you lil pyromaniac. You’re buying dinner.”

Bella shot him a look as they walked, one brow raised, “Fine. But I’m ordering dessert first. I earned it.”

Their laughter echoed off the concrete walls as they disappeared into the glow of the arena lights, leaving only the faint scent of smoke lingering in the cool summer air.
-----


The humid buzz of a late New York afternoon clung to the trees like static, heavy with the promise of summer rain. Out past the house and down a worn gravel path, the old barn sat like a cathedral built for war. The doors were thrown open wide, letting in sunlight and the absolute thinnest of breezes, that did nothing to mask the low, rhythmic sounds of effort inside or the humidity.

Inside, Bella Madison hung suspended from a set of thick ropes, her arms trembling from the strain. Sweat dripped from her brow, soaking into the neckline of her tank top. Her jaw was tight, her focus absolute. A flash of muscle in her arms, a hissed breath, and she hauled herself forward to the next grip: a vertical board with narrow fingerholds carved along the edges.

She clung there, fingers curled like talons, her manicured nails be damned, before launching herself up and grabbing hold of the next obstacle in the sequence: spinning nunchuck handles that dangled from chains. Her body twisted mid-air as she swung and caught them, just barely.

The landing was a stumble. She dropped into a low crouch, panting hard, then pushed herself to stand.

"Again," she muttered to no one in particular, voice hoarse, "Run it again."

The barn, once a place for simple sparring drills and free weight workouts, had been transformed into something bordering on absurd. Metal scaffolding and wood beams stretched across the ceiling in complex patterns. Monkey bars, cargo nets, pegboards, rope climbs, hanging rings. It looked less like a wrestling gym and more like a challenge designed by someone who wanted to break her, before the match ever had a chance.

But this? Bella had designed it herself, because the match at Summer Xxxtreme wasn’t just another wrestling bout. It was Ultimate X, over the pool. Which meant if she wanted to win back the SCW Bombshell Internet Championship, she wasn’t just facing Mercedes Vargas, she was also facing Lilith Locke. And gravity, and pain, and fear, and failure wasn’t an option.

Out in the middle of the barn, Alanah O’Connell stood with a stopwatch in one hand and a bottle of water in the other, brows raised as she watched her sister-in-law reset at the starting line, "You realize this setup looks like it belongs on TV, right?" Alanah asked, a hint of awe and concern laced in her voice, "Like, you could film a whole season of American Ninja Warrior in here."

Bella gave a quick shake of her arms, loosening the lactic acid burn, and shot a look over her shoulder, "Good," she said simply, "That’s the entire point."

She turned her attention back to the course and took off again—leaping, swinging, gripping, hauling herself through the gauntlet of obstacles that mirrored the demands of the Ultimate X match.

“Mercedes isn’t going to out-talk me this time,” she grunted between breaths, "Lilith isn’t going to out-crazy me,” She launched up to a knotted rope that swayed under her weight, wrapping her legs around it to climb, "And no one, ABSOLUTELY no one, is going to out-train me.”

Alanah watched her, shaking her head slowly, part impressed and part unsettled, "You’re going to kill yourself trying to get that title back."

From up in the rafters, where she was now maneuvering across a suspended beam with only her fingertips and a prayer, Bella grinned, "Better me than them.”

Just as she dropped to the mat below with a hard thud, landing in a crouch, Malachi appeared from the far end of the barn, arms folded across his chest, one eyebrow arched, “Alright, love,” he called out, his Irish lilt thick, “So you can monkey-bar your way to freedom. But you think Mercedes or Lilith are just gonna let you climb that X without a fight?”

Bella narrowed her eyes, "I’m counting on them trying.”

Malachi strode over to a set of wooden crates stacked near the far wall, each one stenciled with heavy black letters: 75 LBS. He picked one up, effortlessly balancing it against his shoulder.

“So,” he said, carrying it over to the rig, “What happens when the ropes start shaking? Or when they’re trying to pull you down? Or when you have to kick them off you in mid-climb?”

Bella watched him warily, "Where exactly are you going with this?”

Mal dropped the crate with a thud near the base of the rope climb, “Simple...” He pointed up at the rig, "You don’t just need arm strength. You need to be able to knock two grown-ass women off you, women who weigh as much as these.”

He grabbed a pair of heavy sandbags from a rolling cart, each one marked 135 LBS—about the average weight of Mercedes and Lilith. He rigged them to a pivoting arm attached to the upper scaffold, swinging them so they’d dangle across the path Bella needed to climb.

“New rule,” he said with a wicked grin, "You get past the spinning bars, you climb the rope, you get to the cross-beam… then you have to use your legs to knock these bastards off the path.”

Bella stared at him, incredulous, "Are you kidding me right now?”

Malachi stepped back, arms spread wide, "This is Ultimate X, Bells, over a pool. You think either of those two lunatics aren’t going to grab you mid-air and try to yank you down?”

Bella glared, chest heaving as she wiped sweat from her brow.

Alanah let out a soft groan, "Jesus, you two are insane.”

Mal just smiled, leaning in close enough to drop his voice, "You’re not just going to win this match because you’re faster. You’re gonna win because no matter what they throw at you, you’re still standing...Or hanging. Whatever.”

Bella’s eyes flicked between Mal and the swaying sandbags. Slowly, a grin spread over her flushed face.

“Alright,” she said, tightening her ponytail, bouncing on the balls of her feet, "Bring it the fuck on.”

She leapt back onto the course.

Moments later, the barn echoed with the thud of sandbags being kicked off their pivots, the scrape of chains, and the low, feral laughter of a woman who’d decided she was going to be unstoppable, no matter how heavy the load.

Malachi just stood there, shaking his head, a glint of pride, and maybe a little terror, in his eyes. Meanwhile Alanah knew that they were indeed perfect for one another. He knew exactly who he’d married.

And Summer Xxxtreme wasn’t ready for her.

-----


Rain pattered lightly against the windows of the O’Connell bedroom as Bella zipped the final suitcase closed. The muted grey sky outside cast a soft light across the room, glinting off the metal clasps of the luggage and the array of swimsuits, sundresses, and ring gear still strewn across the bed.

Malachi knelt beside an open duffel bag, carefully rolling up a couple of his T-shirts. He paused, glancing over his shoulder as Bella tried, unsuccessfully, to force a second pair of black boots into her carry-on.

“Love,” he said, voice gentle but edged with amusement, “We’re going on a cruise, not into the bloody Himalayas.”

Bella scowled, half her body weight leaning into the suitcase, "Have you met me?” she shot back, "I’m not showing up on that boat without options.”

Mal chuckled under his breath and got to his feet, wiping his palms on his jeans. He watched her for a moment, the smile fading slightly as the silence stretched between them. The only sound was the faint tick of rain on glass and the rumble of the impending thunderstorm that was about to hit.

“Bells,” he said finally, his tone shifting, “Can I ask you something without you getting mad at me?”

She hesitated mid-shove, glancing up, "I mean I could say no but knowing you.” She smirked for a moment, because she knew what was coming with how he phrased it, “Sure babe, go ahead.”

He crossed the space between them, bracing his hands lightly on her shoulders. His thumbs traced circles against the curve of her collarbone as he searched her face.

“If...” he began, then stopped, exhaling. He tried again, "If things don't go your way at Summer Xxxtreme...if you don’t win the Internet title back, what’s next?”

Bella’s expression didn’t falter right away. But the weight behind her eyes slipped through, carving a fine line between her brows. She swallowed, dropping her gaze to the floor, “I don’t know,” she admitted, her voice softer than it had been in weeks, "I mean, I think I do, but...” She shook her head, "The truth is, I know this might be it, when it comes to the Internet Championship, at least. Two reigns, that’s not nothing.”

Mal’s brows drew together, a flash of protectiveness sharpening his features, "That’s not failure either, Bella.”

“I know that Mal,” she murmured, sliding away from him to sit on the edge of the bed. She picked up one of Máire’s tiny stuffed animals, a battered blue elephant, and turned it over in her hands, "I’ve been in SCW for six years. I’ve had my moments. I’ve made my mark. But I also know how this business works.” Her thumb brushed across the plush ear, "They’re always looking for the next big thing. And if I’m not careful, that’s gonna end up being some part-time bitch riding in on a Queen for a Day contract, or Lilith Locke looking to make a name off me.”

She lifted her eyes, fierce again, "And I’ll be damned if that’s how my name goes down in the books. I’ll be damned if Mercedes, of all people, gets to be the reason people say Bella Madison finally gave up.”

Mal sat beside her, resting his forearms on his knees, "Then what are you fighting for, if it’s not just the belt?”

Bella’s lips twisted into a half-smile, "Partially for us and the other part is for myself. My pride & everything I’ve built.” She huffed a humorless laugh, "I want that title back because I still feel in my heart of hearts that it’s mine. But more than that, I want people to remember that you don’t just push me aside. That you don’t count me out because I’ve got a kid, or because I’ve lost a few times. That not one single soul wrote my story for me.” She glanced sideways at him, "I guess, if I lose, maybe it’s time to figure out what’s next. Maybe that’s a new division. Maybe it’s a whole different path. OR maybe, we give Máire that little brother or sister. I don’t know yet.”

Mal reached over, gently plucking the elephant from her hands and tossing it into Máire’s half-packed backpack, "Whatever it is, you’ll figure it out. And I’ll be right there.”

Bella snorted, "Even if it’s me deciding to run off and start a wrestling school in Bali?”

Mal grinned, "I’ll pack my shorts.”

She let out a genuine laugh, leaning in until her forehead pressed against his, "God, you’re such a sap.”

He kissed her lightly, "Yeah. But I’m your sap.”

They sat like that for a moment, wrapped in quiet comfort as the rain continued tapping the windows.

Then Bella pulled back, her eyes shining again with something fierce and bright.

“Come on,” she said, standing abruptly, "Help me figure out how to fit the boots. I’ve got a title to win and a couple of bitches to toss into the pool.”

Mal stood with her, taking the boots and opening up the main suitcase, "Now that’s my girl.”

----


Outside the O’Connell house, the air hung heavy as though the sky itself was holding its breath. Ominous thunder rolled somewhere distant over the Hudson, and the darkened clouds churned like smoke over the treetops. A cool wind rippled through the grass, rattling the wind chimes that hung beside the porch steps.

Bella Madison sat alone at the top of those steps, elbows braced on her knees, fingers tangled in the ends of her hair. The storm was close. You could taste the electricity on your tongue. She raised her eyes, staring out over the lawn that stretched down toward the woods, her expression carved in steel.

Slowly, she sat upright, rolling her shoulders back. Her voice broke the silence, low, steady, every word measured like the cocking of a gun.

“I hope you’re listening, ladies. Especially one BITCH in particular...” She paused, her lips twisting around the name like it was bitter in her mouth, "Because it’s funny, isn’t it? Mercy, for all your talk about how you’re the standard, the quote-icon-unquote, the woman whose name belongs on the marquee. When it came down to it, you didn’t have the guts to stand in that ring with me and Lilith at Climax Control.”

She curled her hands into fists, eyes burning as the wind lifted strands of her hair around her face.

“But here’s the thing, at Summer Xxxtreme, you don’t get to run. There won’t be shadows for you to hide in, or cameras to play cute for while you keep the championship tucked under your arm like a goddamn purse, or an ample opportunity for Crystal to plant her lips so firmly on your ass that she can smell your farts and know what you had for breakfast and more likely dinner. You wanna be the Internet Champion? Then you’re gonna have to work for it.”

Thunder cracked overhead. Bella didn’t even flinch.

“You’ve been living off your past glories for too long, Mercedes. It’s all ‘Vargas this’ and ‘Vargas that.’ You think people are just supposed to bow down because you’re still collecting a paycheck here. Well, I’m not bowing and I’m sure as hell not leaving my name to be some footnote in your Wikipedia page that I know you take your time updating because you sure as shit don’t do anything else on the internet but retweet about sports that no one gives a FUCK about. That belt you’ve got? The one you parade around like a trophy? That’s mine. You may have beaten me for it, but I built my name on that championship. I fought for it and I bled for it. And I will be absolutely fucked that I am not letting you use it like some cheap prop to remind the world you still matter.”

Her eyes narrowed, dark and dangerous.

“And Mercy, I need you to understand something crystal clear: I don’t give a rats fucking ASS about your records, or your accolades, or how many times you’ve held gold. I don’t even give a fuck that the record still stands that I still OWN your ass. None of that means shit to me when we’re both hanging above that pool, reaching for the same title.”

She leaned forward, teeth gritted.

“And when it comes time to choose between you and me? I’m choosing me every single time.”

Another gust of wind rushed over the porch, carrying the distant scent of rain. Bella dragged in a breath, her shoulders rising and falling as she shifted her focus.

“As for Lilith Locke,” Her tone softened a fraction, but only a fraction, "Lil, you know I like you. Hell, a part of me even respects the balls it took for you to throw your name into this match, you have EARNED this shot. You’re talented. You’re fearless. You’re exactly the kind of chaos that makes this business fun.”

She pressed her lips together, eyes clouded.

“But don’t get it twisted, sis. Just because I like you doesn’t mean I’m gonna let you come into my territory and steal what I’ve worked for. You say you’re hungry? Good. So am I. And there’s only one meal being served at Summer Xxxtreme.”

The sky rumbled again. Bella’s gaze dropped briefly to her hands, then lifted back out to the yard with new resolve.

“This whole thing, this match, is happening in my element. On that Princess Cruise, under the lights, over that pool? Ladies, that’s my home turf. That’s my ring. I signed my contract at Summer Xxxtreme and I’ll be damned if I let either one of you make a name off me and leave me floating face-down while you wave my title around for the cameras.”

She rose from the steps slowly, step by step, until she stood at the edge of the porch. The wind whipped around her, rustling the trees until they seemed to hiss with warning.

“I may have cashed in my rematch clause to get here but that doesn’t mean that I didn’t earn this. And that’s why I’m not leaving Lilith out of this fight. Because I know what it means to be hungry enough to do anything. I know what it’s like to claw your way into matches people said you didn’t belong in.”

Her voice dropped to a ragged whisper, "But I’m not letting either of you take this from me.”

She stepped off the porch and onto the damp grass, walking a slow circle around the house, "You want my championship? You’re gonna have to rip it from my goddamn hands. Because I am willing to burn it all down, everything I’ve built, to protect what’s mine. My name. My legacy. My title. I have come too fucking far to just say fuck it all and NOT expect anything less from me.”

She stopped suddenly. Then, moving with a precision that spoke of long practice, Bella reached into her hoodie pocket and drew out a zippo lighter. She flicked it open, and a tiny tongue of flame sprang up in the dark.

She dropped to one knee and touched the flame to the line of accelerant she’d poured hours before, hidden in the grass around the entire perimeter of the house.

Instantly, a ring of fire blazed to life around the O’Connell property, casting Bella in a flickering, hellish glow. The flames rose higher, crackling, spitting embers into the storm wind. Bella stood tall at the center of the circle, hair blowing wildly around her face, eyes alight with the same fire she’d unleashed.

“Mercy, Lilith and Bella. SCW Bombshell Internet Championship aboard the Princess at Summer Xxxtreme.” She pointed toward the horizon where the lightning flashed, "Come and try me.”

And as thunder split the sky above her, Bella Madison stood alone, defiant and unbreakable, framed by the ring of fire she’d built, daring the storm and her rivals to come any closer.

C L I M A X C O N T R O L ♦ G R A N D J U N C T I O N • C O L O R A D O

[Backstage at Climax Control, the energy is tense. Mercedes Vargas storms through the curtain, sweat-drenched and scowling, clutching her gear bag. Crystal Caldwell, dressed to the nines and scrolling through her phone, leans against a crate, waiting.]

CRYSTAL
Rough night, Mercedes. Guess Kayla still has your number.

MERCEDES
I’m not in the mood, Crystal. Save the gloating for your vlog.

CRYSTAL (smirking, pocketing her phone):
Oh, come on. You know I’m just here for the business. Besides, the Internet Title scene’s about to get crowded. You sure you’re ready for Summer XXXTreme?

MERCEDES (stopping, squaring up):
I’m always ready. Unlike some people, I don’t need to tweet my way into relevance.

CRYSTAL (shrugs, circling Mercedes): Maybe. But you lose again on the Sun Princess, and management might start looking for a new face. Someone with… crossover appeal.

MERCEDES
(stepping in, voice low): If you want a shot, Crystal, just say it. But don’t think for a second you can outwork me. I’ve bled for this company.

CRYSTAL (grinning):
And yet, here you are—backstage, empty-handed. Maybe it’s time for a new headline. “Crystal Hilton: Internet Champion.” Has a nice ring, doesn’t it?

MERCEDES (smirks): Headlines fade. Legacies last. And mine’s just getting started.

CRYSTAL (leaning in, whispering):
We’ll see. Just don’t choke when the lights are brightest.

[Crystal glides past, her confidence palpable. Mercedes watches her go, jaw set, determination burning in her eyes. The business of wrestling is never just about the ring—it’s about who controls the story.]

[As the roar of the crowd faded, Mercedes Vargas made her way backstage, her night in Grand Junction, Colorado now over after her intense match with Kayla Richards. She couldn't help but feel a mix of disappointment and determination despite the outcome. The clash between these two SCW veterans had lived up to expectations, showcasing their skills and rivalry.

The electricity was in the air even as Climax Control was still ongoing. The crowd was buzzing with excitement after witnessing the clash of titans that unfolded between Mercedes and Kayla. Even with the momentum Mercedes had entered with coming into the night, this latest setback just two weeks before she defends the Bombshell Internet Championship at Summer XXXTreme raised questions about her chances in the upcoming championship match, where she will face tough competition in a high-stakes environment. She knew that Kayla would be a formidable opponent, but she also knew that she had what it took to win. That did not happen this night.

While her recent setback may have shaken her confidence, Mercedes has the experience and skill to bounce back. Mercedes knows she'll need to regroup quickly and focus on overcoming this defeat to compete effectively against multiple challengers at Summer XXXTreme in her quest to reclaim her status as a top contender in Sin City Wrestling.]

• • •

Blog: Almighty Fire
semana del 7 al 13 de julio de 2025

Let’s address the elephant in the room, shall we? At the go-home show at Climax Control, Kayla Richards pinned Mercedes Vargas. I know, I know. Cue the confetti, light up the group chats, and let Kayla have her moment in the sun. She earned it. For one night, the stars aligned, and the universe decided to give her a taste of what it feels like to stand above the rest. Trust me, it’s a view I know well.

But let’s not get carried away. Losses happen. One match doesn’t rewrite history, and it certainly doesn’t rewrite the standard. I’m not going to pretend it didn’t sting—losing never sits well with me. But unlike some, I don’t need to throw a tantrum or blame the ref. I don’t need to post cryptic messages about “injustice” or “bad luck.” or "having a bad night." Sometimes, you get caught. Sometimes, the other woman has your number.

See, the thing about being at the top as long as I have is you learn to treat setbacks as setups for the next act. Legends don’t crumble after one loss. We recalibrate, we refocus, and we remind everyone why we’re the ones they’re still talking about when the lights go down.

To the fans and the other Bombshells who suddenly found their voices after last night—enjoy it. I know how you love an underdog story. But don’t get too comfortable cheering for the flavor of the week. Because while the rest of you are busy debating who’s next, I’m already planning what’s next. That’s what separates icons from idols. I don’t follow the conversation—I am the conversation.

If I were Bella Madison or Lilith Locke, I wouldn’t get inspired. I wouldn’t mistake a stumble for a downfall. My career’s been built on comebacks, on turning “could have beens” into “never agains.” If anyone thinks one loss changes everything, let’s look at the so-called contenders waiting in the wings.

You know, the more I watch Bella and Lilith, the more I realize they’re not threats—they’re cautionary tales. Bella acts like she’s owed something, as if the world is just waiting to hand her her next moment. In this business nobody is owed anything. Every accolade, every headline, every second of spotlight—I earned it while she was still rehearsing her entrance in the mirror, hoping someone would notice her. You want to talk about hard work? Try being the benchmark everyone else is measured against, carrying a division while every challenger aims for your crown. That’s real pressure. That’s legacy. Bella and Lilith wouldn’t understand—they’re too busy following trends to ever set them.

This business doesn’t care about your feelings or your excuses. It cares about results. About who stands tall when the smoke clears, who raises the championship belt high enough for the whole damn world to see, and who leaves a legacy that outlives the fleeting applause of a moment.

Bella and Lilith? They’re just part of the noise. Background static in a symphony that I conduct. They think they’re storms, but they’re just passing clouds—loud for a second, then gone without a trace. I’ve been through hurricanes, wildfires, and earthquakes, and I’m still here. Still standing. Still the one everyone is chasing. Still the one setting the standard, raising the bar, and making sure that when people talk about this division, there’s only one name that echoes through every hallway, every headline, and every history book—Mercedes Vargas.

Let me tell you something about legacy. It’s not built on Instagram likes or viral moments. It’s built on sweat, sacrifice, and scars. Every bruise I carry, every sleepless night, every grueling training session—it’s all part of the story that no one else can tell because no one else has lived it. When you’ve carried a division on your back as I have, you learn what it means to be more than just a name on a roster. You become the standard, the benchmark, the queen everyone else tries to dethrone but never can.

There's something almost charming about watching Bella and Lilith try to play the part of contenders. I say “almost,” because after a while, watching someone trip over their own ambition gets a little old. Still, I have to give credit where it’s due: it takes a special kind of courage to step into a spotlight you’re not ready for. Or maybe it’s just a lack of self-awareness. Either way, it’s entertaining.

But here’s the thing: I don’t hate them. I pity them. Because beneath all the posturing and the pyrotechnics, there’s a desperation that’s almost tragic. They want what I have—a legacy, a name that echoes through the halls of history. But they don’t understand that it’s not about wanting. It’s about earning. It’s about grinding when no one’s watching, pushing past pain and doubt, and standing tall when everyone else has fallen.

I’ve seen what happens to those who chase fame without substance. They burn out fast, leaving nothing but ashes behind. I’ve been through that fire and come out stronger. That’s why I’m still here, still relevant, still the queen of this kingdom.

When I first stepped into this ring, I was underestimated. Dismissed. Told I was too small, too soft, too inexperienced. But I didn’t let that stop me. I used it. Every insult, every sneer, every underestimation became a brick in the foundation of my empire.

Bella and Lilith? They’ve had it easier. Opportunities on silver platters, chances to shine without paying their dues. And yet, here they are—still scrambling, still clawing for a foothold. It’s almost sad to watch.

But I don’t hold grudges. I hold standards. And my standard is excellence. My standard is dominance. My standard is being the one everyone else measures themselves against.

I know, I know—this is the part where I’m supposed to be worried. Where I’m supposed to pretend that their little mind games and social media antics are keeping me up at night. But the truth is, I sleep just fine. Maybe it’s because I’ve already seen everything they're trying to be. Maybe it’s because I know that when the pressure’s on, they'll both do what they always do—fade into the background, while I take center stage.

Let’s start with Bella. She’s got that wide-eyed optimism, that “I just got my first pair of heels and I’m going to conquer the runway” energy. It’s cute—like watching a puppy bark at its own reflection. She talks about respect like it’s a birthright, not something you earn with grit and grind. Bella, darling, respect isn’t a participation trophy. It’s not handed out just because you showed up and remembered your lines. It’s forged in the fire of real competition, in the moments when you’re the last woman standing and everyone else is left picking themselves up off the mat.

But I suppose when you’ve never truly been tested, it’s easy to mistake applause for achievement. You want to be the future? Try mastering the present first. Until then, you’re just another face in the crowd, hoping someone mistakes your confidence for competence.

Bella, you’re always chasing—validation, relevance, that one win that’ll finally make everyone see you the way you see yourself.. But here’s the truth: you can’t chase greatness. You have to become it. And that takes more than a few good intentions and a catchy entrance song. The fans cheer for you because they see themselves in you—ordinary, unremarkable, destined for failure. Me? I’m everything they wish they could be: extraordinary, undeniable, and unstoppable.

Deep down you know the truth, Bella. You can’t beat me. And you won’t beat me.

And then there’s Lilith. Oh, Lilith. The self-styled chaos queen. She’s got all the trappings of menace—dark makeup, cryptic tweets, a penchant for melodrama—but none of the substance. It’s all thunder, no rain. You can set the stage on fire, but if you can’t back it up when the bell rings, all you’ve done is give the janitor more work. I’ve seen scarier things in my rearview mirror on the way to the arena.

You see, real power doesn’t need to announce itself. It walks in, and the room gets quiet. It’s the hush before the storm, the tension in the air when everyone knows something’s about to happen. Lilith, you can keep screaming into the void, but until you learn to let your actions do the talking, you’ll always be the background music to someone else’s main event.

But don’t get me wrong—I actually enjoy having you both around. Every queen needs her court, after all. And every story needs its supporting cast. You two play your roles beautifully. Bella, the plucky underdog who just can’t quite get it together. Lilith, the misunderstood villain who talks a big game but never quite delivers. It’s almost Shakespearean, really.

And while you’re busy rehearsing your lines, I’m out here writing the script. Because that’s what real champions do. We don’t wait for opportunities—we create them. We don’t chase trends—we set them. We don’t ask for respect—we command it.

My legacy wasn’t built overnight. I’ve built my legacy brick by brick, match by match, year after year. I’ve been the headline, the standard, the measuring stick. I’ve seen challengers come and go—some with more talent, some with more hype, but none with more staying power. And that’s the difference. That’s why, when the dust settles, my name is the first—and last—one they remember.

Because in the end, it’s not about who wants it more. It’s about who’s willing to do what it takes. And if history is any indication, that’s always been me.

So, Bella, keep practicing your poses. Lilith, keep perfecting your glare. Maybe one day, you’ll figure out that being memorable takes more than a gimmick and a good lighting crew. Until then, I’ll keep doing what I do best—winning.

I don’t need to shout to be heard. I don’t need to set anything on fire to light up the arena. When I walk in, people pay attention. That’s called presence—a word you both might want to look up. It’s something you either have or you don’t. No amount of hashtags or mood lighting can fake it.

You know, sometimes I wonder what it must be like to live in your world—a place where every setback is someone else’s fault, where every missed opportunity is a conspiracy, and where every defeat is just “bad luck.” Must be nice to have that kind of built-in excuse generator. But here’s the thing: champions don’t make excuses. We make history.

I’ve faced tougher opponents, survived harder battles, and come back from bigger setbacks than either of you can imagine. And every time, I’ve emerged stronger. That’s what separates legends from footnotes. That’s why, when the lights go out and the crowd goes home, I’m the one holding the gold. And that's exactly what's going to happen in two weeks at Summer XXXtreme.

So, go ahead—burn all the effigies you want, call me every name in the book, scream, shout, throw your little tantrums, post your cryptic messages, and tell yourself that this time will be different. Maybe it will. Maybe you’ll finally rise to the occasion. Or maybe, just maybe, you’ll do what you’ve always done—fall short, and watch as I add another chapter to my story.

At the end of the day, when the lights go out and the crowd goes home, the only thing that matters is who’s standing tall with the championship in her hands. And that’s never been either of you. That’s always been me. Because when all the noise fades and the spotlight narrows to a single point, there’s only room for one queen. And if you have to ask who that is, you haven’t been paying attention.

So when Summer XXXTreme hits, and the world is watching, I’ll be ready. Ready to silence the doubters, ready to crush the pretenders, ready to prove once again why I am the queen of this kingdom.

But don’t worry, Bella and Lilith—I’ll make sure you get a front-row seat. After all, it’s the least I can do for my biggest fans.

See you at Summer XXXTreme. Try not to blink. You might miss your moment.

Long before you knew, and long after you'll remember.


SCENE: LATE NIGHT BAR – CITY LIMITS

[The group gathers around a worn wooden table in a dimly lit bar. The buzz of conversation and clinking glasses fills the air, but the mood is heavier than at the party. Irma nurses a drink, Mercedes leans back, eyes sharp, Ricardo watches everyone with a calculating gaze, Tomas fidgets with his glass, and Hugo lights a cigarette, exhaling slowly.

Irma sat quietly at the edge of the table, her fingers tracing the rim of her glass. The laughter and bravado swirling around her felt distant, almost unreal. She drew in a shaky breath, her voice barely more than a whisper as she finally spoke—revealing more vulnerability than she intended.]

IRMA:
Thanks for coming tonight. I needed this… more than you know.

[Mercedes gives a tired half-smile, exhaustion in her eyes.]

MERCEDES:
We all do. But don’t think this means the pressure’s off. Summer XXXTreme is coming, and it’s not just some fun cruise. It’s a war zone.

TOMAS:
So what’s the play? How do you flip the narrative?

[Mercedes looks around the table, eyes locking with each friend.]

MERCEDES:
I lost tonight. Kayla got the better of me. But that’s not the end. It never is. I’m not done—not by a long shot.

[Hugo glances at the tense faces around the table, then suddenly stands, stretching his arms overhead. He grabs a stray cocktail napkin and starts folding it absentmindedly.]

HUGO:
You know what? I’m starving. Anyone else actually eat at Irma’s, or did we all just survive on nerves and cheap wine?

[He waves down the bartender, signaling for a menu, his tone lighter, trying to cut through the tension.]

HUGO:
Seriously, if I don’t get some fries in me, I’m going to start hallucinating. Remember that time at the old place, Mercedes, when you tried to deep-fry a Snickers bar?

[Irma lets out a surprised laugh, the tension in her shoulders easing a little. Tomas grins, shaking his head.]

TOMAS:
And you nearly set the kitchen on fire. I thought Ricardo was going to call the fire department.

[Mercedes rolls her eyes, but a reluctant smile tugs at her lips.]

MERCEDES:
Hey, it almost worked. “Almost” being the key word.

[The mood at the table shifts, the heavy conversation giving way—at least for a moment—to shared memories and laughter as the group orders food and reminisces, the storm outside fading into the background.]

[The bartender drops off a stack of menus with a practiced smile. Hugo snatches one, scanning it with exaggerated seriousness.]

HUGO:
All right, what’s everyone’s poison? I’m thinking nachos the size of my head and, if we’re brave, the “Inferno Wings.” Anyone?

[Irma giggles, finally letting herself relax. She picks up a menu, her fingers no longer trembling.]

IRMA:
I’ll split the nachos, but someone else is taking the wings. I still remember what happened to Tomas last time.

[Tomas groans, rubbing his stomach with mock pain.]

TOMAS:
Don’t remind me. I thought I was going to breathe fire for a week.

[Mercedes leans back, folding her arms, her earlier intensity softened.]

MERCEDES:
Just get me fries. And maybe a milkshake—chocolate, extra thick. If I’m going to survive Summer XXXTreme, I need to start carb-loading now.

[The group laughs, the sound mingling with the low music and clatter of the bar. Ricardo, who’s been quietly watching, finally chimes in, his expression playful.]

[Ricardo leans in with a sky grin on his face.]

RICARDO:
Speaking of carb-loading, you all realize we’re about to spend a week trapped on a boat, right? I hope you packed more than just sunscreen.

[Irma smiles nervously.]

IRMA
I keep telling myself it’s just a cruise. Sun, ocean, maybe a little drama. But Mercedes is right—it’s going to be a battlefield.

[Hugo raises his menu like a shield, holding it between himself and the table as if warding off the tension in the air, his eyes peeking over the top with a playful glint.]

HUGO
I’m just hoping the buffet survives. Last year, I saw grown adults fight over shrimp cocktails. This year, we might have to dodge flying elbows and sabotage.

[Suddenly, Tomas leans forward, a mischievous grin spreading across his face.]

TOMAS:
You know, if the food war gets too intense, we could always start our own rebellion. I call dibs on the captain’s hat.

[Mercedes snorts.]

MERCEDES:
Yeah, good luck with that. The captain’s probably got a black belt in passive-aggressive glares.

[Irma laughs, the sound light and genuine.]

IRMA:
Imagine the chaos if Hugo actually tried to lead a mutiny. He’d probably negotiate peace by offering everyone free fries.

[Hugo pretends to be offended, clutching his chest.]

HUGO:
Hey! I’m a man of principles. But I won’t say no to fries as a peace treaty.

[Ricardo chuckles.]

RICARDO:
At this rate, the biggest threat on the boat won’t be the competition—it’ll be Hugo’s snack demands.

[The group bursts into laughter, the earlier tension dissolving completely. Irma leans back, feeling the warmth of friendship and the comfort of shared humor.]

IRMA:
Well, whatever happens, at least we’ll survive on fries, laughter, and maybe a little chaos.

[Hugo raises his menu one last time, mock-saluting the group.]

HUGO:
To fries, friends, and fiery wings—may the best snack win.

END

Present Day ♦ L O S A N G E L E S • C A L I F O R N I A

[REC•]

Location: Paul Smith Pink Wall, Melrose Avenue, Los Angeles
Time: Golden hour, just before sunset.

[Camera opens with a wide shot of Mercedes standing confidently in front of the iconic pink wall. Bold, stylish, and confident — the vibrant pink wall contrasts sharply with Mercedes Vargas’s sleek black leather jacket and chic dress. The atmosphere is urban, trendy, and unapologetically fierce. The light hits her sharply, emphasizing her commanding presence. As the camera zooms in, Mercedes removes her sunglasses and addresses the lens, her tone smooth and polished, laced with cool sarcasm.]

“Well, well, well… Bella and Lilith really went all out, didn’t they? Burning effigies, calling my BFF a ‘coat tail riding leech’—oh, the drama! I was backstage, watching their little circus. The mannequin, the fire—such passion! I loved it, I loved it. Almost adorable, really. If I didn’t know better, I’d say they were auditioning for a daytime soap. But this? This is Sin City Wrestling. Here, you don’t play dress-up and call yourself a contender. You earn your place. You fight for your crown. And you keep it. In this company, it takes more than smoke and mirrors—or a little pyrotechnics on a mannequin—to shake someone who’s built this from the ground up.”

[She smirks, slowly removing her sunglasses and locking eyes with the camera.]

"Let’s get one thing straight: I don’t have to prove anything to anyone. I don’t need to show up every week, waving my arms and yelling to get attention. That’s not how a champion carries herself. A champion commands respect by being unshakable, by making every move count, by knowing when to speak and when to let our actions do the talking."

[She pauses, a hint of a smirk playing on her lips as the city lights begin to flicker on behind her.]

"I’m not here to entertain your little vendettas. I’m here to remind you—and everyone watching—that I’m the champion for a reason. I didn’t just stumble into this title. I didn’t get handed it because I was pretty or popular or because I had some ‘leech’ whispering sweet nothings in my ear. No, I earned it. Blood, sweat, and tears. Every single damn day.

I didn’t get to the top by underestimating anyone. I know what both of you are capable of. That’s why I’m always three steps ahead. While you’re busy plotting your little upsets, I’m planning my next celebration."

[Mercedes stops, looks directly into the camera, her eyes sharp and unwavering.)

“Bella, Lilith, I almost wish you two would team up. Maybe then you’d stand a chance. But let’s be honest, alliances never last long when gold is on the line. I’ve seen it before—best friends, bitter rivals, it all ends the same: with me holding this title. After I beat you both, I’ll send you a postcard from the top—wish you were here.”

[Mercedes steps forward, the city lights reflecting off her jacket as she gestures with controlled confidence.]

"You want a real conversation? Here it is: I’m not running from either of you. I’m just busy building my empire—on and off the ring. While you’re busy playing dress-up with mannequins, I’m out here making moves. So come Summer XXXTreme, I’m not just defending a title—I’m defending everything I’ve built. My legacy. My name. My reign."

[She pauses, a sly smile curling her lips.]

“Now, about that little ‘leech’ you keep talking about—Crystal. Let me tell you something about loyalty. It’s not about clinging to someone’s coattails or riding their wave. It’s about standing shoulder to shoulder, knowing when to lead and when to follow. Crystal isn’t a leech. She’s smart. She’s savvy. And she’s got my back because she knows what real strength looks like.”

[Mercedes reaches into her jacket pocket, pulling out a small photo of herself and Crystal, smiling and confident.]

“See this? This isn’t just a partnership. This is a bond forged in the trenches. And anyone who thinks they can come between us is in for a rude awakening.”

[She tucks the photo away and turns back to the camera, her expression hardening.]

"You can call us whatever you want, but you can’t rewrite history. Crystal and I— we’ve survived every storm, every ambush, every rumor. You want to test that? Be my guest. But don’t be surprised when loyalty outlasts your little alliances and your fleeting grudges."

[She laughs softly, shaking her head.]

"You know what really gets me? The way you two act like you’re the only ones hungry for this. Like you’re the only ones who know what it means to sacrifice. Newsflash: I built this legacy from the ground up, while you were still trying to figure out which side of the ring to stand on. I’ve been breaking records and breaking barriers before you even thought about stepping up. So spare me the sob stories and the cheap shots."

[She steps forward, voice low and commanding.]

"This city? It’s seen legends rise and fall. It’s seen champions crowned and dethroned. But through it all, the ones who last are the ones who adapt, who evolve, who never let the noise drown out their purpose. That’s why I’m still here. That’s why I’m still the one to beat."

[Mercedes pauses for a moment, letting the words sink in. The camera cuts to a slow zoom on her face, capturing the subtle smirk that hints at her confidence.]

“Lilith, I respect your fire. I see your hunger. You want to make a name for yourself, and I get it. We all want to leave a legacy. But here’s the tea: I’m not just some placeholder for your little power struggle. I’m the champion. The one who’s been carrying this title with more grace and grit than either of you ever could. Here's a little advice—don’t mistake ambition for readiness. You came at me once, and it didn't end well for you."

[Mercedes steps forward, lowering her voice slightly, adding weight to her words.]

“Bella, Lilith, you want to send a message? Go ahead. Burn your little effigy. Throw your matches and your threats. But remember this—when the smoke clears and the ashes settle, the one who earned it will still be standing—title in hand.”

[Mercedes turns to face the pink wall, then looks back to the camera, voice dropping to a confident whisper.]

"So, Bella, Lilith—bring your chaos, bring your fire. I’ve faced it all before. When the lights are brightest and the stakes are highest, I don’t just show up—I show out. And when the final bell rings, you’ll remember exactly why I am one of one."

[The camera slowly zooms out as Mercedes walks away along Melrose Avenue, the pink wall glowing behind her, the city alive and buzzing.]

The scene opens up with Justin Smith standing on the deck of the Princess Cruise. Before he goes to get a drink, he decides to call his friend and former trainer Casey Williams.

Justin-Hey Casey, looks like I am in a battle royal for a shot for the World Heavyweight championship against Eddie Lyons, Milo Kasey, Liam Davis, Aiden Reynolds, Bill Barnhart and Logan Hunter. What do you think my chances are?

Casey-I think you have as much a chance as they do, as it’s every man for themself.  I would say that you may be a target because you are the weakest link due to your record.”

Justin-I was thinking the same thing.

Casey-Ifigured, and I should expect you to be confident in yourself despite your record.

Justin-Yeah, and I will do my best to win the match, regardless of what needs to be done.

Casey-I’ll send Dying Breed and Hitamashii to train with you.

Justin nods and waves off the cameraman, asking him to leave so Justin can continue his conversation as the scene fades to black.

Early the very next day, Justin is seen at his cabin, on the way to the gym to meet up with Dying Breed and Hitamashii. He arrives at the gym to see Dying Breed members Andrew Garcia and Ivan Darrell already there sparring with each other and Hitamashii.

Andrew-You’re late!

Justin-Sorry, got stuck behind some slow people on the way here.

Ivan-Let’s work on some different techniques.

Justin-Let’s do this!!![/b]

Andrew-At least your skill set can hopefully shine in this match!

Justin-How so?

Ivan-You are known for your power and speed, right?

Justin-Yes.

Andrew-Let us see how we can use that to your advantage in this match, given some of the guys are more agile than you.  Let’s see you do a rack attack.

Justin and Ivan get into position and Justin attempts to give Ivan an ankle lock.

Andrew-That’s good. Now I want to see you try it again.

Justin and Ivan get into position again and Justin’s 2nd attempt of an ankle lock looks much better than the first time.

Andrew-Good job!

Dying Breed and Hitamashii continue working with Justin as the scene fades to black.

Later that night, Justin is seen at the cafeteria for dinner, but turns to the camera with an evil look in his eyes to call out his opponents, first Eddie Lyons.

Justin-”Eddie, you may be the most likely to win this match, due to your reputation but I will do everything in my power to make sure you do not win this battle royal.  There is nothing you can do that will surprise me as I am expecting the unexpected”

Justin then gets a water before turning his attention to Miles Kasey.

Justin-”Miles, I know you’re as talented as Eddie is, and I expect you to go far, but I plan on beating you and doing whatever it takes to win”

Justin then gets a burger and fries. He sits down to eat it and then turns his attention back to call out Liam Davis.

Justin-”Liam, I see you’re still as confident as ever.  Even though you beat me not too long ago, I have a ton of respect for you, as you call it as you see it, but inside that ring, you will be just another victim of my assault and my rise to superstardom. Everyone in this match is just a stepping stone to my success!”

Justin breathes, finishes eating, disposes of his trash and then goes to the deck as he calls out Aiden Reynolds.

Justin-”Aiden, another guy who I can see winning it, and just like I said to Eddie, I will do everything in my power to toss you over and earn this win. I am going to use my power and my speed to dodge any assault and toss people over. You will be just another guy tossed over by the end of the night. I am going to prove to you and the world that I am not as worthless as you think I am when I’m the one standing tall at the end of this.”

Justin arrives at the deck, sits in a chair, takes a sip of his water, and calls out Bill Barnhart.

Justin-”Bill, you seem super confident you won’t be eliminated, but I see you as one of the weakest competitors in this match. Sure, you’ve got some size and power, but you aren’t really that good a wrestler, and you will be one of the first eliminated.  You will be tossed over the ropes and then fall off the deck and into the water because you are clumsy. Nobody wants to hear about your former accolades in other wrestling organizations. Lately, you have been a terrible wrestler, who needs to hang up his boots for good.”

Justin cackles before calling out Logan Hunter.

Justin-”Logan, you can bitch and moan about me being a thorn in your side since your debut, and there’s a reason for it. I need to prove that I am the best in the industry, and I feel that going through you is a step in the right direction in achieving that goal. I agree that you should have held onto that Roulette title longer, but at least you can’t blame me for your losing the title.”

Justin then hums his theme song “Madness” by Liliac as the scene fades to black.

It was a match two months in the making but Cassie was finally set to resolve her issues with Seleana Zdunich at Summer XXXTreme, it started with a random match between Cassie and Mercedes Vargas during the Viking Era Tour which had Seleana as a guest ref as the match was taking place in Seleana’s home country of Sweden, a match that Seleana inadvertently cost Cassie and things escalated from there.

However the annual summer spectacular was also serving as two important milestones for Cassie: not only was it the one year anniversary of her SCW debut but it was her first match as a twenty two year old woman as she was celebrating her birthday the week before! Can Cassie win and close out this chapter of her career?

Cassie’s home, Las Vegas, Nevada
Friday the 11th of July 2025, 09:00am

Oh what a difference four years make!

This is my first Summer XXXTreme as a competing Bombshell, that goes without saying since I signed my contract with SCW right before last year’s show, but I’ve been a part of this since 2022, back when I was an eighteen year old trainee at the PTA Gym.

Never heard of the PTA Gym? There’s a reason, it was originally run by “Prime Time” Matthew Kennedy, a retired British wrestler who was one of the first Roulette Champions back in SCW’s early days and for a time? He served as Krustal’s manager which was how she entered my life, at the time? She was at the peak of her Roulette Title Reign but Matthew was trying to turn her into something she wasn’t.

That also happened to coincide with her latest challenger being Keira Fisher having turned away Char Kwan at that year’s High Stakes, I was naive at the time and didn’t realize that Matthew, despite having a damn wrestling prodigy in his gym, was less interested in my development as a wrestler and more interested in using me as a tool against Krystal, to make a long story short? Matthew found himself forced to sell his gym to Team Hero who rebranded it as Hero Academy, I went on to be the first graduate from the school at nineteen, having celebrated my birthday the day after the 2022  event ended.

The 2023 event passed without much incident but last year’s show? As I said, that was when I signed my SCW Contract, Krystal had taken time off due to injury and was considering not renewing her contract when it came up, they had a void on the roster and well, I saw an opportunity! Has my run been perfect? Not exactly, but I’ve had a hell of a time along the way.

And that brings us to today, because my match will be my first match as a twenty two year old woman! That’s right, it’s my birthday!

”Mom said she’d be here with my presents at 9:00am.” I muttered to myself as I checked the time on my phone, I was going to tweet about it later  ”Meaning she’ll be here any moment now if traffic cooperated with her.”

Moments later there was a knock at the door and I got up to answer, Sandie, my Golden Retriever who had been a Christmas present back in 2022, had of course beaten me to the door and when I answered? My mom was on the other side. “Happy birthday Cassie!” My mom greeted me before we shared a hug and I let her into the house, Sandie followed closely behind us. “My, my, you’ve grown so much!”

”Pretty sure my height peaked at 5ft 3 mom.” I responded as I shook my head and Sandie sat down next to me. ”But yeah, after how crazy the past year has been? I’m glad for the reset, and right before my first year anniversary as an SCW Bombshell.”

“Time flies Cassie, that’s all I can say.” My mom responded before she started getting the presents out, it was a Nintendo Switch 2 with Donkey Kong Bananza, Pokemon Legends: Z-A and some money, normally they’d be wrapped but mom had accidentally spilled the beans on me getting a Switch 2 and games a couple of weeks ago so she cut to the chase. “Your father and I will be in attendance on the cruise too.”

”Yeah, I can’t wait, especially with the belated birthday bash that I’ve arranged with the bosses.” I added with a grin as I checked out the switch, planning to get it set up a bit later. ”Do you know if Krystal will be attending?”

My mom frowned and with good reason, Krystal had become disillusioned with wrestling since leaving SCW last year, she still lived in Vegas with her wife Makayla and their daughters but she hasn’t even attended a wrestling show since then, not even Blaze of Glory when I was in the Elimination Chamber challenging for the World Bombshell Title got her to come out. “I haven’t spoken to Charlotte in some time.” My mom responded as I nodded, Charlotte was Krystal’s birth name but for a multitude of reasons that really fucked up? She legally changed her name to Krystal before she graduated from the Go Gym and only those she was close to called her Charlotte, me and my mom included. “You know hiow she feels about how her SCW career ended.”

”Yeah, I know, I figured I’d ask.” I sighed as ran a hand through my hair. ”She sent me some money earlier and Makayla did drop off some presents but aside from that and a Happy Birthday message over WhatsApp? Not much.”

“We can only hope that she comes around.” My mom nodded sympathetically and I nodded in response. “Now, how about I fix you some breakfast?”

”Sounds great.” I responded before my mom went into my kitchen to start making me breakfast.

Josh’s Gym, Las Vegas, Nevada
Friday the 11th of July 2025, 16:00pm

It’s been a few hours since mom’s visit but as great as my birthday has been? I do need to get my training done.

I know me and Harp use both Josh’s gym and Hero Academy interchangeably but this week? Harper’s in a title match so she’s been getting her reps at the better equipped and funded Hero Academy for most of the week, I focussed on getting my reps done in a more intimate setting and Josh has happy to accommodate me.

We still planned to meet up for a meal out later at one of Las Vegas’s best restaurants to celebrate my birthday but that wasn’t for a few hours yet, until then? We had training to do and while my match wasn’t as important as Harper’s? The training still mattered.

”Hey Josh.” I greeted my manager as I entered the gym and he greeted me warmly. ”Ready to make me work on my birthday?”

“Always.” Josh chuckled and I went into the changing room to get changed out of my day clothes and into my wrestling gear, once I came out of the changing room I wasted little time in getting inside the ring. “How does it feel being twenty two?”

”Same as I felt after I turned twenty one last year, only my age features the same number twice.” I responded with a grin as I started to work out. ”Seriously, I think I answered that question about five times today since I got my presents from Makayla, Krystal and my mom.”

“Yeah, well, just wait until you get to my age.” Josh chuckled as I started running the ropes. “The reservation was confirmed earlier by the way.”

”Good, I can’t wait to splurge on my birthday.” I responded with a grin as I leaned against the ring ropes. ”I’ve had birthday money from both mom and Krystal so it’s not like I’m gonna run short before I get my next SCW Paycheque.”

“That always helps.” Josh nodded in agreement as I continued to work out. “Of course, you’re lucky to still get those paycheques after the comment you made to Seleana that started this whole mess.”

”You’re really gonna bring that shit up on my birthday?!” I protested as I stopped my workout to turn to my manager. ”Yes, it was fucked up of me to accuse a mother of beating her kids without proof but you know the shit I was going through during the Viking Era Tour!”

“Mental health or not, in a regular job that would’ve at least violated five HR Rules.” Joshua responded as he leaned against the apron and I frowned. “Not to mention the legal ramifications.”

”I mean, that incident happened in Denmark and I’m pretty sure neither of us are qualified to speak on Danish law.” I responded as I shook my head and Josh nodded as he realized that I had a point. ”Besides, I’ve spent the past few months on what basically amounts to an apology tour, does that count for nothing?”

“No.” Josh responded as he shook his head and I let out a deep breath. “But reminding you of your mistakes keeps you humble Cass.”

”Just saying, there’s easier ways to keep me humble than reminding me of what’s going to stand out as the sore thumb of my first full year as an SCW Bombshell.” I responded dryly as I folded my arms. ”Not to mention a possible candidate for Holy Shit/WTF Moment of the Year provided it doesn’t get overshadowed in the Year End Awards by everything Logan Hunter has done since his debut.”

“Also very true.” Josh nodded in agreement before shaking his head. “But for now? Get back to your training, you can film your first promo for the match afterwards.”

”Sounds good to me.” I responded before I picked up where I left off.

Josh’s Gym, Las Vegas, Nevada
Friday the 11th of July 2025, 17:15pm

*promo time*

As I got ready to cut my promo for this long overdue match? I had one thing on my mind.

”You know, for a grudge that essentially spawned from one, admittedly fucked up, comment that I made in a completely different time zone a few months ago? It’s taking for fucking ever to get to this point, hasn’t it Seleana?” I asked as I folded my arms. ”Seriously, we were supposed to have this match at Into the Void, got added to the Queen for a Day Match instead, then we had that tag match with Harper and Diamond and finally? After three months of waiting? We’re opening Summer XXXTreme.”

Yep.

”And to think, neither of us really got a concrete answer for why that match up got bumped to annual cruise but here we are!” I stated as I shook my head. ”And honestly? I think it’s about damn time we put this whole incident behind us, they’re billing it as a grudge but is it really? I’ve moved on, you’ve seemed to have moved on, what exactly is the grudge?”

I can think of one thing.

”Oh right, the fact that the bosses used Mercedes’ fluke win over me to give her a shot at Bella and the Bombshell Internet Championship at Into the Void which led to Mercedes winning her first singles title in years, I swear Seleana you’re like the butterfly effect of wrestling!” I commented as I shook my head. ”You do a terrible job of officiating a match and that leads to the poster girl for “washed up past her prime Bombshell” getting a fire lit under her ass and is suddenly having a career renascence! What next?!”

I dread to think.

”Don’t answer that, I don’t think the world would survive someone like Bea Barnhart ending Victoria Lyons’s reign!” I added as I shook my head. ”But in all seriousness? Your bad officiating possibly cost me a Bombshell Internet Title Match and now Mercedes is parading that thing around like her shit don’t stink! Will I set my sights on her after I beat you Seleana? Maybe, I don’t make a habit of airing my plans out during promos unless they involve the match, speaking off?”

It's that simple.

”Summer XXXTreme will be my first year anniversary of signing my first contract with SCW and this match will be my first as a twenty two year old, yeah, today’s my birthday and I’m celebrating by planning out how I’m going to kick your ass!” I added s I flipped some hair over my shoulder. ”Wrestling is weird like that, huh Seleana? I mean the comments I made that started this mess would’ve gotten me a lot worse than a broken nose in any other setting but here we are!”

And with that I decided to wrap things up.

”And here I am, ready to throw down with you on the cruise Seleana! And once I beat you? Maybe, just maybe, we can put this shit to rest.” I added as I folded my arms. ”Because god knows I don’t want this shit spread out to Violent Conduct! To all my fans? In a world of fake queens and long overdue grudge matches? Be yourselves and be a Rebel Princess! And to you Seleana? Get ready because I’m hungry like the wolfe!”

I turned off my camera as the scene fades.

The Morning After Climax Control
Featuring: Kevin Carter

The morning air was crisp, filtering in through the slightly cracked window of the small downtown coffee shop Lilith and Kevin had unofficially claimed as their spot. A few regulars milled about, the soft hum of indie rock playing in the background, blending with the gentle hiss of the espresso machine. Outside, the sun barely broke through the gray clouds, casting a pale light over the sidewalk. Lilith sat near the window, idly stirring her iced lavender latte with her straw. She wore dark sunglasses, despite being indoors, her hood pulled up over freshly washed hair. She hadn’t said much since they sat down. Kevin, across from her with his usual black coffee and blueberry muffin, leaned back in the chair with arms crossed, his jaw visibly tense. He hadn’t touched his drink yet.

“So…” he finally said, his voice low but edged, “you gonna tell me what that was last night?”

Lilith didn’t look up. “You’re gonna have to be more specific.”

Kevin scoffed, shaking his head. [color=green#67BF61]“Don’t do that. Don’t play dumb with me. You know exactly what I’m talking about Lilith. Bella. The handshake. The fake little smile. You acting like it didn’t take everything in you to not roll your eyes the whole time.”[/color] He grumbled. “That face like bullshit.”

Lilith sighed, leaning back in her chair and finally removing her sunglasses. Her eyes were tired but defiant. “It wasn’t fake. And I wasn’t acting.”

Kevin blinked. “Wait—what?”

“I shook her hand because she earned it,” she said, meeting his gaze. “I went to war with her out there, Kevin. She pushed me harder than I thought she could. And when it was over… I don’t know. It felt right.”

Kevin leaned in now, voice sharper. “Since when do you do what feels right? You’ve spent your whole career tearing people down and making sure no one forgets that you don’t give a damn about anyone but yourself. That’s the Lilith I know. That’s what the fans expect from you Lilith. The Unhinged and crazy one.”

She didn’t flinch. “Maybe I’m tired of being who everyone expects. Maybe I’m tired of being overlooked. SHE didn’t overlook me.”

Silence fell between them for a moment, broken only by the clang of a spoon hitting ceramic from a nearby table. Kevin stared at her, his brow furrowed in something between concern and confusion.

“Is this about trying to be liked now?” he asked, his tone softer. “Because… I get it if it is. But that’s not how you survive in this business. You start showing respect, shaking hands, playing the honorable vet—you lose your edge. That’s how people start seeing you as soft.”

Lilith let out a dry laugh. “You think shaking her hand made me soft?”

“I think it looked like the beginning of you going soft,” he said. “And yeah, it worries me. Because that’s not you.”

She leaned forward, resting her elbows on the table. “No. What worries you is that I’m making decisions without you. That I didn’t ask you what to do or how to act or whether I should show Bella a shred of respect after we nearly killed each other out there.”

Kevin recoiled slightly. “That’s not what this is about.”

“Isn’t it?” she challenged. “You’re always talking about loyalty, about keeping our image strong, but the truth is… I’m not your image. I’m mine. And if I decide to show someone a little respect—just once—it doesn’t make me weak. It makes me layered. Complicated. Real.”

Kevin looked away for a moment, chewing on the inside of his cheek. “You’ve never cared about being real before.”

“Maybe I’m allowed to change,” she said quietly. “Maybe I’m growing. You should try it sometime.”

The silence that followed was heavier than before, but it wasn’t hostile. It was thoughtful. Kevin’s hand slowly reached for his coffee, fingers drumming against the side of the cup.

“You still don’t like her, right?” he asked, eyes narrowing slightly.

Lilith smirked. “Not even a little. It’s just respect.”

Kevin cracked a smile. “Okay. I can live with that.”

She leaned back again, sipping her latte. “Good. Because next time I see her? That handshake is off the table. I was agreeing with her about Mercedes. It doesn’t change the fact that I plan on walking out with the gold at Summer XXXtreme.”

Kevin lifted his cup in a mock toast. “Now that’s the Lilith I know.”

Lilith raised her brow. “Maybe. Or maybe I’m just keeping you guessing.”

---

That belt is mine

The air was still, heavy with silence, save for the soft creak of an old wooden chair beneath her. Lilith sat alone, hunched forward slightly, forearms resting on her thighs, long hair curtaining her face like a veil. The light above flickered once, but she didn’t react. There was no camera crew, no director barking orders, no arena noise to drown her out—just her voice, low and coiled with purpose, ready to strike.

“You ever notice how people talk about pressure like it’s some tragic affliction?” she muttered, mostly to herself, but with just enough edge to suggest she wanted to be heard. “Like it’s some weight that’s gonna crush them if they don’t cry loud enough for sympathy.” Her lip curled, eyes narrowing as she leaned back against the wall, staring at the empty space in front of her as if someone was standing there, listening. “People forget pressure makes diamonds. And bombs.”

A beat passed, long enough for her to pull a cigarette from her jacket pocket. She didn’t light it. Just rolled it between her fingers as if that alone grounded her. “I’m both.”

She sat like that for a while, letting the words hang in the air. Then she exhaled a humorless chuckle. “I’ve been quiet lately. Not gone. Not dead. Just... waiting. Letting everyone else scream into the void, hoping someone notices them before the lights go out. And now?” She glanced sideways, almost smiling. Almost. “Now it’s my turn.”

Her fingers tapped a rhythm against her knee, impatient, like a song only she knew. “So we’ve got Bella Madison. And Mercedes Vargas.” Her tone shifted—Bella’s name spoken with the barest flicker of warmth, Mercedes’ spat like poison. “What a beautiful little pairing of contrasts. Like a sunbeam and a rotting corpse.”

Lilith tilted her head, finally looking directly ahead, her expression tightening. “Let’s get one thing straight right now. You don’t know me. You think you do. You’ve seen me grin while I twist people into shapes they weren’t meant to survive in, and you think that’s the whole story. But you’ve barely scraped the surface.”

She tossed the cigarette to the floor, untouched. “I’m not a gatekeeper. I’m not a villain. I’m not your final boss or your little morality test. I’m not here to teach you anything.” Her voice dropped. “I’m a consequence. And consequences don’t give warnings.”

She stood now, pacing slowly, arms folded, head tilted as if deep in thought. “Bella Madison. I respect you. There, I said it. You earned that, every second of it. You fought, and you bled, and you got up when most would’ve stayed down. I see you. I respect you. But don’t you dare think that means I’m gonna go easy on you.”

Her eyes flared with something sharp and primal. “Because I’ve suffered too long. Fought too hard. Died and came back too many times to hand over anything to anyone. Especially not to someone who still believes this place runs on heart. You want to beat me? You better be ready to rip that respect right out of my hands. Because I’m not giving it away, and I’m sure as hell not going down easy.”

She stopped pacing and let out a slow breath. That respect, real as it was, had limits. Limits that Bella was about to learn the hard way.

“And then there’s her,” Lilith growled, venom practically dripping from her lips. “Mercedes Vargas.”

Her posture shifted, stiffening, hands clenching at her sides. Every trace of amusement or nuance drained from her face. “If there’s a bottom-feeder in this industry, it’s her. Living off borrowed time and stolen legacies. Clinging to relevance like a parasite sucking blood from a host that forgot she was ever even there.”

She sneered. “You’re not a legend, Mercedes. You’re a leftover. A has-been who never really was. You’re what happens when someone mistakes tenure for greatness. All that time, and nothing to show for it but bitterness and cheap shots.”

Lilith’s voice cracked slightly—not with weakness, but with the weight of hatred that had been festering too long.“You made this personal. Years of slander. Of smug little side-eyes and petty digs and passive-aggressive jabs. You thought I wouldn’t remember? I do. I remember everything. And now you get to pay for it.”

Her hands spread slightly as if welcoming the chaos she knew was coming. “You’re not walking into a wrestling match, Mercedes. You’re walking into a damn reckoning. And when I’m done with you, you won’t be able to leech off this industry anymore. There won’t be any nostalgia to cling to. No fans chanting your name out of pity. Just silence. Just me standing over you, wondering if maybe I should’ve hit you harder.”

She paused, and when she spoke again, her voice was colder. “I’m not coming for the win. I’m coming for the scars. The memories. I want your screams echoing long after the show’s over.”

Another silence, this one heavier than before. Lilith stepped closer to the imaginary camera, her face calm but her eyes wild. “Bella, I’ll fight you. I’ll push you further than anyone ever has. I’ll make you question everything you believe in. And maybe—maybe—if you’re still standing when it’s over, I’ll shake your hand again.”

Her voice lowered to a whisper now. “But Mercedes? I want you crawling. I want you begging. I want you broken. I want you bleeding.”

Lilith didn’t leave the room. She just walked a few steps, letting the weight of her boots echo across the floor. Her hands shook—not with fear, but with anticipation. With desire. There was a storm inside her, and it was growing more violent by the second. Her breathing was uneven now, not from exhaustion, but restraint. Because there was still so much more to say.

“I’ve never been the hero. Never been the woman you write bedtime stories about. And I’m not about to start pretending to be now just because people suddenly want to call me ‘legacy’ like it’s a compliment. Like I’m some elder stateswoman they can trot out for nostalgia points.”

She turned around sharply, eyes narrowing into the lens. “I’m not your legacy act. I’m not here to pass the torch. If you want the fire, you’re gonna have to burn with me.”

She grabbed a chair and kicked it over without warning, sending it skidding across the floor with a violent clang. “Bella, you’ve got guts. You’ve got heart. But you’ve also got something worse than fear: hope. And that makes you vulnerable. That makes you breakable. And I don’t want to break you, Bella. Not because I care about you—but because I want you to stay whole long enough to realize how badly you lost.”

She paced again, this time faster. Frenzied energy began to creep in as her voice raised. “You want it so bad, don’t you? To prove to the world you belong. That you’re not just a name carrying momentum, that you’re not living in the shadow of anything. But you’re not getting that proof from me. Not without pain. Not without war. And maybe not even then.”

Her gaze dropped, and her fingers flexed, like claws itching to be used. “You’re going to walk into that ring thinking this is your moment. And I’m going to make sure it’s the moment that ruins you. I’m going to take all that faith you have—in yourself, in this business, in the idea of fairness—and I’m going to grind it into dust beneath my boot.”

She paused to lean against the wall, chest rising and falling rapidly. Her lips parted slightly, as if the fury was catching up to her. “And Mercedes… God, Mercedes. The truth is, I’ve been waiting to get my hands on you for years. You don’t get to call yourself a queen when all you’ve ever ruled is the wasteland you helped create.”

Her voice trembled with rage now. “I’ve watched you slither through locker rooms, poison every well, turn everything into some twisted competition that no one else agreed to be part of. You’re not a competitor. You’re a saboteur. You survive by dragging everyone else down into the pit with you, because you’ve long since forgotten how to rise.”

She closed her eyes for a moment, and when they opened again, they were almost wet. Not with sadness. With fury. With something primal. “You talk about legacy like it’s yours by default. Like time alone earns you respect. But all the time in the world won’t fix the rot, Mercedes. And I’m done watching you infect everything I care about.”

She pushed off the wall and pointed toward the darkness as if Mercedes was standing there in the flesh. “I want to hurt you. Not just beat you. Not just outsmart or outfight you. I want you to wake up every day for the rest of your life and remember that I took something from you. That I carved my name into your ribs and you couldn’t do a damn thing about it.”

Her voice dropped again, almost eerily calm. “I want you to suffer, Mercedes. Because that’s the only thing you’ve ever given anyone else. It’s fitting. Poetic. And long overdue.”

She took another slow breath, long and deep, holding it until her shoulders settled, and her voice came out a near whisper. “There’s no redemption here. No handshake. No grace. This ends with one of us dragging what’s left of the other back into the dark. And I don’t plan on being the one left behind.”

Lilith stayed there, unmoving. Breathing. Listening to the silence like it whispered her name. Her lips parted, and her tongue pressed against the back of her teeth as if to taste the next words before she gave them shape.

“I’ve spent nights staring at the ceiling… replaying every second I ever gave to people who didn’t deserve me. Every match. Every promo. Every handshake I forced myself to give to keep the peace in a warzone that never wanted peace to begin with.” Her fingers curled into fists. “And your name, Mercedes… it always came up first.”

A low laugh escaped her throat. No humor. No joy. Just something jagged and broken. “You’re the kind of woman who walks into a burning building and blames the ashes for being dirty. You’ve built nothing. You’ve preserved nothing. You’ve only taken. Credit. Oxygen. Spotlight. Everything.”

Lilith stepped forward again, voice rising—not in volume, but intensity. “You think time is your friend. That because you’ve been here, that means you matter. That you’re untouchable. But time is a liar, Mercedes. Time is a thief. And I’m the blade waiting in its shadow.”

She tilted her head slowly, like she was studying the idea of it. “It would be easy to just beat you. To pin you clean and leave you humiliated. But I don’t want that. That’s mercy. You don’t deserve mercy. You deserve fear. The kind that creeps in when the arena goes dark, and you wonder if maybe—just maybe—I’m still there. Waiting. Breathing behind the curtain. Watching you.”

Lilith ran a hand through her hair, pushing it back from her face, revealing the wide, dangerous eyes of a woman who had nothing left to prove—but everything left to destroy. “You’re going to learn what happens when someone finally stops playing by the rules you bent. You’re going to learn what it feels like when someone doesn’t care about your name, your years, your stats… only your screams.”

The rage started to fold in on itself now, becoming something else—something colder. Lilith leaned against the concrete wall, tapping her fingernails against it, letting the small noise carry. “And Bella…”

Her tone shifted again—gentler, but not soft. Never soft. “You… confuse me.” She let that confession hang there, uncomfortable and raw. “I see you and I think, ‘She could be the one.’ The one who doesn’t lose herself. The one who doesn’t rot from the inside out when this business finally sinks its claws in deep enough to scar her.” She looked up, voice caught between respect and sorrow. “But then I remember… this place doesn’t allow survivors. Not without a cost.”

Lilith stood upright again, shoulders rolling, neck cracking as she shifted the weight of everything she carried. “I want to believe in you, Bella. I do. But belief is a luxury I had beaten out of me a long time ago. And in that ring, I won’t hold onto that belief. I’ll try to drown it. Smother it. Because that’s the only way I know how to survive now.”

Her jaw clenched. “And if you still manage to crawl out of that wreckage with your pride intact? Then maybe… maybe I’ll look you in the eye when it’s over. Maybe I’ll call you more than just another name.”

Her voice dropped again—dead calm. “But don’t misunderstand me. I’m not fighting for you. I’m not fighting to test you. I’m fighting because I have to. Because the only thing that makes me feel real anymore is the sound of bodies breaking under mine. I need this. I need it the way addicts need breath and priests need forgiveness.”

She looked down at her hands, flexing her fingers like they weren’t hers. “This is all I have. And I’ll set fire to both of you to make sure I keep it.” A long silence followed. Lilith didn’t move. Just let her words rot in the air like smoke. Then something shifted. A smile—not wide, not crazed, but knowing—curled at the edge of her lips. It was the smile of someone who had already made peace with the monster in the mirror.

“You know what no one ever tells you?” she asked, barely above a whisper. “The moment before a match… the exact moment… right before your music hits and you walk through the curtain… there’s this pause. This breathless little second where time freezes. Where anything can happen. You can win. You can lose. You can die.”

Her eyes gleamed. “And in that second? I feel alive. That second belongs to me. That’s the part you can’t train for. You can’t fake it. And neither of you know what to do with it. But me?” She tapped her chest once. “I live there.” She backed away from the wall now, movements slower, deliberate. Her voice dropped again—lower than before, nearly inaudible except for the rage that coated every word.

“So come get it. Come take your shot. Hope, heart, history—bring it all. Drag it with you like it’s going to protect you. Let the fans scream your names like prayers. Let the lights shine like halos. Because the second that bell rings, I stop being a woman. I become punishment.”

She stepped into the dim center of the room, where the only light flickered above her like a dying heartbeat.

“I’ll paint the canvas with your legacy, Mercedes. I’ll smother you with the weight of everything you should have let go of ten years ago. And I’ll tear through you, Bella, not because I want to—but because I have to prove that no one is safe. Not even the ones I respect.”

She tilted her head again, voice now so soft it felt almost like a lullaby. “This isn’t a triple threat. This is a ritual. A bloodletting. And I’m not walking out empty-handed. I’m walking out with your fear. Your silence. Your shattered sense of control.”

Her eyes closed. Just for a moment. “Because chaos doesn’t choose favorites. And neither do I.”

The room fell into silence again. Not peace. Never peace. Just the quiet that came after something primal finished speaking through her. Lilith exhaled slowly, cracking her knuckles, letting the rage settle like dust. She didn’t need to scream. She didn’t need fireworks or metaphors. Not anymore. She had bled all the poison out, word by word, and now there was only resolve.

Only the certainty that someone was going to suffer—and it wasn’t going to be her.

---

Face to Face and Heart to Heart
Featuring: Bella Madison

Two hours later, the arena was dim and nearly empty. Echoes of earlier matches still clung to the air like ghost smoke. Lilith stood alone in the center of the ring, arms crossed, head down, the faint buzz of the fluorescent lights casting her shadow in long, broken lines across the canvas. A door opened somewhere backstage. Footsteps. Soft. Controlled.

Bella.

She didn’t say anything at first. Just stood at the edge of the ramp, arms folded, face unreadable. She was out of her ring gear now—jeans, a loose flannel shirt, hair pulled back.

“You don’t have to be here,” she said at last.

“I am here,” Lilith replied, not turning.

“Because of me?”

“No. Because of me,” Lilith echoed. “This place feels different now. I had to stand in the middle of it again. Without noise. Without chants. Just… truth.”

Bella stepped closer, cautiously, like approaching a wounded animal. “You shook my hand.”

“I know.” Lilith nodded her head.

“You didn’t have to.” Bella looked at her calmly.

There was a shrug from Lilith. “I know.”

Bella let the silence fall again. “You scared me,” she admitted quietly.

Lilith turned now, eyes sharp. “Good.”

“But not in the way you used to,” Bella continued. “Not the chair throwing, table smashing, voice in your face scary. You scared me because for the first time… I believed you were actually you. Not the version for the cameras.”

Lilith didn’t blink. “Then don’t get comfortable. That version of me is still in here. She just has new teeth.”

Bella nodded once, slowly. “I’ll be ready.”

Lilith smirked. “I hope so. Because next time? I’m not interested in handshakes.”

Bella’s expression shifted, lips curling slightly. “Neither am I.”

They locked eyes for a long moment—neither hostile nor friendly. Something deeper. Respect twisted with the scent of blood still drying in the corners of the ring. Lilith turned and climbed out of the ring, boots hitting the floor with a hollow thud. She didn’t look back.

---

Coffee and Text messages
Featuring: Kevin Carter

Later that night, Kevin sat alone in the same coffee shop. The indie rock still played, quieter now, almost like a whisper. He stared out the window, steam curling up from his fresh cup. The sky was ink-black now. The rain had stopped.

His phone buzzed.

Lilith: Told Bella she was right about Mercedes.

Another buzz.

Lilith: But I’m still taking her head off next time.

Kevin chuckled to himself, shaking his head.

“Undeniable,” he murmured. “God help us all.”